


Wingman

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Developing Relationship, Drinking & Talking, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Happy Phil Day, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 05:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11434599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Daisy thinks Coulson should buy the woman in the corner a drink.





	Wingman

This is a problem.

This is a problem, Daisy thinks as their drinks arrive, the swanky hotel bar filling with people obviously looking to hook up on a Friday night.

She is just looking to crash for a bit, too wired to up to her room, too worn out to talk to anyone but another agent like Coulson, or maybe just anyone but Coulson, and she is not expecting the evening to be anything more momentous than that, but then she catches Coulson looking around at all these couples forming, and maybe it’s because the two of them are too tired from both the mission and the ensuing diplomatic talks of the day, but his expression is uncharacteristically naked. He’s envious.

_Oh_.

Coulson is single, and he doesn’t want to be. That’s the problem.

She is okay with it, she has accepted this is the life. It has come to the point where it doesn’t bother her anymore, the certainty that she’ll never have a partner. Not like that anymore. She’s not even bothered by the possibility of never having sex again.

But Coulson is different. He couldn’t get used to it. And he shouldn’t have to. He should have all these things Daisy knows she herself will never have.They’re alike in many ways and that has always been a comfort to her, but not in this.

“Barring some other emergencies like today’s,” Coulson is saying, a little grimace for the way the international team had behaved during the missions, “and except for the meeting with the PM we have tomorrow morning off. I’ve never actually seen the city.”

Daisy lights up at the idea of going sightseeing, then realizes, what a sad predicament that would be for Coulson, he could be spending the day with… someone else.

“Where does it say we’re allowed sightseeing in the SHIELD manual?” she jokes. 

He grins, even though it wasn’t that funny. He lets it go but of course, if he has no better plan, she will go with him. Does he think Daisy has forgotten tomorrow’s his birthday and he thinks he has to beg for company? But he _should_ have better plans than spending the day in beautiful Helsinki with his work colleague. Hell, he should have better plans tonight. Better than having a drink with said colleague after basically spending the whole day together, between hostage negotiations and (almost worse!) diplomatic negotiations on behalf of the Inhumans. 

It’s Coulson, he should have _someone_ in his life.

But he seems oblivious, and he looks content as he drinks side by side with her. Yet he can’t be content. She noticed that glance to the couples. She has been noticing how lonely he’s been for years.

Daisy scans the room, quickly, and just as quickly she makes a decision. She’s good at this, snap decisions, and she’s even better since she has been SHIELD-trained. Except in the field if she hesitates people die. What’s the worst that can happen in this scenario, if her choice is less than perfect?

“That woman on the corner,” she tells Coulson. “With the dark blue suit.”

“What about her?”

Daisy takes a sip from her cocktail. “You should buy her a drink.”

“I should- What?” he chuckles.

“You should,” she insists. “She’s your type.”

“I don’t have a type.”

Leaning back in her seat Daisy lets her mouth hang open. She is _shocked_.

“You _don’t_ have a type? Okay.”

She catches a little smile on the corner of Coulson’s lips.

“Maybe a bit of a type…”

“Thank you.”

He glances at the woman Daisy has picked, for the first time, like he’s trying to check if indeed she could be called “his type”. She looks extraordinary, which, really, if she’s going to have a chance with Coulson, she should be. She looks lovely and confident, dark hair, 40-ish, elegant. She looks European - a plus for Coulson - and a professional. Her work suitcase betrays she’s come to the bar straight from her job. But she’s undone a couple of buttons in her blouse and looks casual enough. And alone. She doesn’t look like she is waiting for anyone, either.

“The thing is,” Daisy says. “You’re single, and you don’t want to be.”

To his credit he doesn’t deny it.

“I don’t need you to help me pick up partners,” he says, on the defensive.

“Because you do so well yourself?”

Coulson gives her a blank stare, the kind he never gives her.

Daisy thinks about the people he’s lost, and the people he’s _lost_ , and knows that was unfair.

“I’m sorry, that was mean, and hurtful,” Daisy says, and his expression disappears. “I just… I can’t stand seeing you sad, or lonely. You deserve better.”

His brow wrinkles a bit, surprised by her. She means. He actually doesn’t know how much Daisy means those words.

“Let me be your wingman for the night, it’ll be fun,” she tells him.

She smiles at him.

Coulson doesn’t resist anymore.

Daisy is pretty sure he doesn’t actually need any help, just a little encouragement. She’s seen him with women, he’s going to do fine. She just needs to get him past the door.

She doesn’t even let him finish his scotch - she doesn’t want to give him time to change his mind - she grabs his arm and walks him to the woman in the corner with the dark blue suit, hoping she doesn’t come off as totally crazy for doing this.

“Hi,” she says to the woman.

The woman smiles, confused but polite. Cool.

“Hello.”

The accent. She was right.

“You don’t know me and this is probably very inappropriate but… can my friend buy you a drink?”

She can feel Coulson’s eyes narrowing at her, but hey, he agreed to this.

The woman takes a look at him. Daisy feels preemptively offended that she might find something wrong with him; like _come on_ , it’s Coulson, he’s very… well, very handsome, and he’s not even too American, in case that’s a problem with her. He has a good body, even hidden under his suit it’s plain to see. And Daisy feels bad for having noticed but, great ass. There’s that. And his eyes. He has kind eyes. That’s the first thing Daisy liked about him, before she even knew he was a great guy, his kind eyes. Those alone should be enough to make anyone give him a change, right?

“Can’t your friend ask himself?” the woman, very understandably, asks.

“I can,” Coulson says and he sounds… suave, perfect. This lady is in for a treat, Daisy thinks.

“Yes, yes, he can,” Daisy adds, touching Coulson’s arm encouragingly. “But he gets shy sometimes. Can you do me a favor and let him sit down and talk to you for a bit? I’d appreciate it.”

The woman looks curious but hesitant.

“Look at it this way,” Coulson intervenes. “At worst you waste ten minutes and get some nice Côtes du Rhône for free. At best…”

That does the trick, the woman has no chance.

Daisy slips from view discreetly, giving Coulson a knowing nod, resisting the temptation of giving him a thumbs up. What was it that they said in that old tv show? I love it when a plan comes together? That’s how Daisy feels.

 

+

 

After a few minutes speaking with the woman Coulson realizes Daisy has an uncomfortably good aim for these things. She has zeroed in on his type like this, and it makes him wonder.

Nathalie is French, and a diplomat. The city is swarming with them these days, they might even have crossed paths before (no, Coulson would remember, he wonders if it’s a bad thing that he’s that cliché). But she is not here for the Inhuman meetings at least; Coulson tells her he’s SHIELD, there’s no reason not to, they’re public again, and in the rollercoaster of bad press-good press they are on a high right now. He doesn’t tell her his role in the organization or who is the woman at the bar who came in with him.

“Are you here for the World Security Summit?” Nathalie asks.

“Something like that,” Coulson says, tempted to tell her all about this morning’s mission, and how Daisy stopped a group of terrorists from disrupting the Summit. That should impress her, and Coulson likes impressing beautiful women. Except he’s not the one looking impressive in that story.

He lets her pick the drink, and she has an excellent nose for wine (just _how good_ Daisy is at what she does?) which makes it easy for them to slip into a conversation on the subject. Nathalie comes from a beautiful wine region in the south of France. The kind of place Coulson no longer has time to visit. He wonders if Daisy has been in France other than in its airspace. He thinks back on their missions and he can’t tell. The wine arrives. It’s excellent. The United Nations really wanted to make nice with SHIELD by inviting them to this hotel. He remembers once Daisy had to go undercover to some high-end party and had to pretend she knew about wines to keep her cover - she learned all the names and characteristics dutifully but she admitted to Coulson that her tongue couldn’t tell them apart from a ten-dollar bottle. Coulson smiles at the memory.

“What?” the woman in front of him asks, catching his expression.

“I was thinking how lucky I am that you were in this bar tonight,” he replies, without missing a beat. “How long are you staying in town?”

“Three days,” she says with a smirk.

He could work with that.

He could ask Nathalie if she is free tomorrow. He could ask if she wants to go see the city. He could tell her it’s his birthday, nudge a bit of sympathy. The way things are going - and Coulson is not being presumptuous, he is good at reading the cues - he could ask her to come up to his room right now. And it would be nice. More than nice. He would enjoy himself and he would get a bit of much needed sex and company. Once upon a time that would have been the perfect plan. But now he has better plans. 

“Nathalie?” he calls.

“Yes?” Eager, already charmed. Coulson feels a bit guilty.

He keeps thinking about Daisy saying she couldn’t stand to see him sad...

“I’m really sorry about this but…”

 

+

 

Daisy watches with a smile on her face as Coulson obviously charms the pants off this lady.

He deserves this. He’s such a good guy (not a “nice guy”, Daisy has had enough of those), the idea that someone like Coulson has to be lonely is not only an injustice to her, it’s unbearable to think about.

She doesn’t mean to go all voyeur on her teammate but she watches Coulson making the woman smile, she watches him talk to her, no doubt telling her some anecdote, he’s so good at anecdotes. In no time he could ask her to come up to his suite and she’d say yes, Daisy is sure she’d say yes (who wouldn’t? right), the question is whether Coulson will go through with it or not. Even if it’s just for one night he should have a bit of fun. Daisy is not sure Coulson does one night stands - she doesn’t.

She has faith in him, though. He looks relaxed talking to the woman, in his element. Daisy is a bit envious, but as an abstraction, a “would be nice” kind of thing. It’s not the longing that used to be there years ago. That yearn not to be alone. Maybe she’s a bit broken, or at least that part of her is broken.

Coulson is not broken, though, and Daisy tries to count the minutes in her head, she’s sure that if he’s going to make a move it’s going to be in the next two minutes.

“Come on, Phil,” she mutters. The waiter catches her, and she flashes an embarrassed smile. “It’s fine, I’m not talking to myself, I’m just trying to get my friend laid,” she tries to explain to the man.

The waiter looks unimpressed, keeps cleaning glasses until their surfaces shine so much they hurt Daisy’s eyes.

Then something happens. She sees Coulson get up from his seat, say some kind of goodbye to this woman and walk back to the bar.

Daisy watches Coulson walk back straight to her. 

She panics. Did she make a mistake picking the woman? Is she someone horrible, not Coulson’s type at all?

He returns to his seat at the bar next to Daisy, casually as if nothing had happened. He finishes his drink, his old drink, the one still next to hers.

“What happened?” Daisy asks. “I thought you were hitting it off.”

“We were,” he says.

“Then why-?”

“I wanted to finish our drink.”

“But-”

“Daisy.”

Okay, she’s kind of _happy_ that Coulson prefers to spend his time with her, but it kind of defeats the purpose.

“I want to be here,” he adds.

She wonders if he is just being kind, if he worried that she might feel lonely if he left with someone else. She wonders if this is just pity.

“You don’t have to-”

“I know. I meant it,” he repeats. He makes a gesture to the waiter for another round.

“Okay,” Daisy says, accepting the renewed invitation for a drink.

One thing worries her, though.

“At least tell me you weren’t rude to that woman.”

“I wasn’t,” Coulson states. And Daisy believes it - she can’t imagine Coulson being randomly rude to strangers. “I told her she seemed like a extraordinary woman, but there was another extraordinary woman I’d rather spend my evening with.”

_Oh_.

Daisy looks ahead, at the line of bottles behind the waiter’s station. She doesn’t want to say anything or move in case she has heard wrong, in case saying anything or moving will make those words not true, will render them void. She nods slightly, just to let Coulson know that she has got it, and she agrees.

Or that she feels the same, she hopes that’s the message here.

“What do we do now? Should we go upstairs?” she says, finally turning to face him.

He looks amused.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me,” Daisy protests. “I haven’t done this in a long time. And there’s normally this much of a civilized discussion. There’s normally kissing and boom, it’s settled.”

“I can kiss you right now, if that makes things easier.”

Daisy tilts her head. _The cad_. His lips are curled, clearly very satisfied with himself. He looks a bit nervous underneath, microscopic but she can see it.

“Thank you for the offer but I don’t think I want our first kiss to be in public,” she replies, giving away more than she intended.

Coulson nods. “Then let’s get another drink.”

She taps her fingers on the counter while they wait for the Swedish blond waiter to serve them.

“Well, the evening took an unexpected turn,” Daisy says, with a soft chuckle.

Coulson lifts his glass.

“To unexpected turns,” he toasts.

They touch their glasses together.

Daisy’s heart is pounding.

But then they get to talk again - about the things they usually talk, the day’s mission, tomorrow’s brief, the international mood against and for Inhumans, what the rest of the team must be getting up to with them gone from the base.

She starts enjoying herself.

And she realizes.

She hasn’t felt that longing for connection in years, not with the intensity she used to feel, not the same yearning, because she hasn’t really been alone. All this time she has had someone. Coulson. She wasn’t broken at all. She was already in a perfect relationship. Well, almost perfect, they still have to-

“Shall we go up?” Coulson asks, like reading his mind.

“You can’t read minds, can’t you?” she asks, just in case.

“You’re the one with powers,” he points out.

“Just checking,” Daisy says, downing the last bit of her drink (for courage, maybe) and getting up.

They leave the bar together, like one of the many couples and random hook-ups they’ve seen tonight.

But Daisy doesn’t feel like any of them.

This is so huge, so _unthinkable_. Except she is very much thinking about it. But it’s so big and risky. Coulson is her friend, no, they’re more than friends. They’re family, and that should feel weird, but it doesn’t, it makes _so much sense_ , because she is closer to Coulson than to anyone, so it makes sense that she should be closer to Coulson than to anyone in every sense. It’s almost logical.

Logical doesn’t mean she’s not terrified, and sure that she’s going to trip on the carpet of this super expensive hotel and all the fancy people are going to laugh at her and Coulson will be so embarrassed that he’ll call the whole thing off (except he would never do that, come on, girl). 

And then Coulson does something really… unfair.

He grabs her hand.

Right there as they cross the bar. What an asshole. He holds her hand in his and laces their fingers together and it’s so casual yet so romantic. Daisy has no alternative: she stops walking, turns to Coulson and grabs him by the back of his neck, pulling him towards her, towards her mouth, and she kisses him for all it’s worth.

Either it’s been a while for her, or she’s a really good kisser, or Coulson is a really good kisser, or all of the above. It’s nice - no, it’s good. She runs her tongue across his lips and Coulson loops his hands around her waist, holding her up. He moans a bit when she touches the roof of his mouth, sighs a bit when she digs her nails gently into his scalp, and Daisy almost forgets they are in a very crowded bar, and they are pretty famous in the country thanks to their stunt this morning. 

To her credit she does have enough presence of mind to stop and get Coulson and herself out of here as soon as possible.

As soon as she recovers her breath.

He’s visibly affected when they pull apart, but he is good at playing it cool.

“I thought you didn’t want our first kiss in public,” he says.

Daisy shrugs. “I changed my mind.”

“Good,” he says, the suave asshole, squeezing her hand tight, the lovely asshole, and pulls her for another kiss.

Are they ever going to leave the hotel bar? Daisy wonders, mouth full of Coulson and joyful hesitation. 

 

+

 

It’s before eight and he doesn’t want to be that cliché, but _he is_ that cliché and he is watching Daisy sleep. She had a long day yesterday, and a long night, even though Coulson doesn’t exactly regret that. His own body is exhausted, even though he wasn’t the one who had to use his powers to deflect a hostage situation, and though he didn’t get drunk he realizes his body is getting less resistant to alcohol. Oh well. He can’t exactly wallow in self-pity with Daisy tucked in a corner of his hotel bed, naked and snoring softly, her face more relaxed than he’s seen it in years.

He thinks he is a bit in shock, like after taking a bullet (but that’s not very romantic, is it?), unable to process that he is here with Daisy, and what they did last night, how it’s going to affect their lives. It seems like a dream to him. There, that’s more like it. Romantic. She’s like a dream, he doesn’t mind admitting. He’s not sure what he’s done to deserve it, but he has no intention of wasting his good luck. Not after these years of longing and loneliness. If only he had known sooner…

Propping himself on one elbow Coulson dips his head, enjoying the feel of Daisy’s skin against his lips. He kisses the line of her upper arm very lightly, trying not to wake her.

But she wakes up.

Coulson can’t say he’s unhappy about that.

“Mmm,” she moans at the touch, her eyes still closed. “Happy Birthday, Coulson.”

Daisy opens her eyes to Coulson’s surprised expression.

“You thought I didn’t remember, uh?”

“You didn’t say anything yesterday.”

She moves under the covers, getting closer to where he is. Coulson can feel the warmth of her body, even though they are not touching.

“I had a plan,” she tells him. “I told myself I was going to say _Happy Birthday_ very loudly as soon as the clock ticked twelve, but as it turns out at the moment I had other stuff on my mind. And in my mouth.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Daisy says, blushing. “I joke when I’m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” he asks.

“Cause here i am in bed with a great guy and I wonder what I did to deserve it,” she admits. “A great guy who happens to be the most important person in my life and I’m scared of ruining it.”

Coulson feels the same, and likes the company, but he’s not nervous. He’s oddly calm. There’s a certain peace in finally knowing his own heart.

“Then,” he says, bending over to kiss the same spot on her arm - he likes that spot, it’s full of hard work and trained muscles yet soft to the touch, except for the ghost memory of a bullet graze under his lips. “Don’t be nervous.”

“Easy for you to say, Mister I Can Seduce Two Women On The Same Night,” Daisy jokes.

“You seduced _me_ , so what does it say?”

She seems to think about it, and the dice the notion is pleasurable.

“Good point.”

“Come on,” he says, threading their fingers together; it’s a thrilling tiny thing, it’s like he is locking two pieces that were always meant to be together, and that doesn’t even surprise him, because him and Daisy, they were always supposed to fit. “I was promised sightseeing.”

The woman in his arms arches an eyebrow, her face so familiar and new, and squeezing his hand.

“So you were asking me on a date last night.”

“I absolutely was,” Coulson replies.

He absolutely was.

He just didn’t know it yet.


End file.
